Hearts on Fire
by tristinai
Summary: Jack and Elsa have lived on neighboring farms for as long as they remember. In the rough and ever changing landscape of a young, postcolonial America, the only constant Jack has ever relied on was their friendship. But that all changes one fateful day at the Creek. Jelsa, no powers, postcolonial America AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** This is an idea I have had floating around in my head for a year and a half. I finally found the time to write it. I will apologize in advance for any mistakes made, especially for the horrible Norwegian I included in some of the dialogue (translations found at the end of the chapter). I also did my best to research colonial/postcolonial history in America but I am NOT an American so forgive any errors made in my research. Feel free to critique and offer suggestions (review :) ).

 **Warnings:** This story will contain sex and content some may find triggering. Please read all warnings before reading a particular chapter.

Chapter 1: The Incident

Sweat dripped from his brow, slipping down his neck and adding to the dampness of his soaked shirt. The afternoon sun was particularly vicious this day, as if it was still well into July and not creeping into the start of September. As Jack surveyed the last of the corn crop, he swiped the back of his dust-covered hand over his face, silently bemoaning the labor he would have to put in for this year's harvest.

"How's the crop looking, Jackson?" his mother called.

Jack readjusted his straw hat and scanned towards where he had heard her. He could see a woman bent over, brown hair peppered with gray, pulling roughly at a few weeds off to his left. Carefully stepping around the corn stalks, Jack knelt down to help her.

"I've got it. You need to take a break, mom. You're going to overwork yourself again."

She swatted his hand away. "Jackson, I did not raise you to be lecturing your mother when there's work that needs to be done. You're making me feel like an old maid."

Jack smirked. "Well, if the shoe fits—"

She playfully cuffed him but Jack wasn't fooled by the stern look she was giving him. He could see the way her lips quirked as she tossed the weeds into the basket with the others. When she attempted to lift it, however, Jack was letting her have none of that.

"I'll get rid of these. Why don't you head in and take a rest? I'll finish up here."

"How sweet of you to let your 'old maid' of a mother take a break," she teased. Mrs. Overland wiped her hands on her soiled skirt. "If only your sister were as considerate. Lord knows where Emily's run off to this time of day."

If there's one thing that Emily and Jackson shared, it was a playful and energetic spirit. Ever since turning 13 a few years before, and with his father's unfortunate death on the job, Jack had to give up his days of running around and getting into all sorts of mischief with the Liabråten sisters. Emily helped out a lot more, too, but the days were long and the life hard for a farming family so whenever he could, Jack would take on some of Emily's duties so she could enjoy what remained of her childhood.

Today was one of those days and, unfortunately, the disapproval in his mother's voice meant that this hadn't gone unnoticed.

"She's probably gone off with Anna somewhere," Jack said, with a shrug. "Maybe down by the creek. I can go check."

Hell, jumping in the creek didn't seem like such a bad idea after spending all day in the field.

"Could you send her back home? The least she can do is help with dinner."

Shouldering the basket, Jack nodded. But before leaving, he tried to defuse what could be a rough scolding for Emily. "Don't be too hard on her."

"She's got to grow up sometime, Jackson."

"I know, but…"

He sighed. _But with dad gone…haven't we been pushed enough?_

Seeing the concern on his face, his mother gave him a small, reassuring smile. "I'll try to go easy on her, sweetie."

Satisfied, Jack left to dump the weeds out of the crop fields. Returning the basket to the tool shed, he bent over the basin where they kept washing water and cleaned off his hands. The flies swirling around the muddied water made him think twice about wiping off his dirt-smeared face and he once again toyed with the idea of dipping into the creek.

Why not? He had to go and find Emily anyway.

The walk to the creek was a good mile away, at the edge of the farmlands that separated the Liabråten fields from the Overland's. Unlike the Overlands, whose lands were small and modest, the Liabråtens had nearly five times the crop space and even hired a few hands to help with the tilling and harvests. The Liabråtens had done quite well for themselves since arriving nearly a decade before from Norway and there was even talk of them purchasing a neighboring piece of land for cattle ranching.

 _The American Dream,_ Jack thought, somewhat wryly.

He wasn't without his envy. When the Liabråtens arrived, they had a plot of land no bigger than the Overlands and could barely speak English. He even remembered how often their eldest daughter, Elsa, would push herself to use more English whenever they played together. The whole family worked hard and was rewarded through their hard work but Jack couldn't help but wish some of their good luck had rubbed off on their neighbors.

As he reached the outcrop of trees separating their lands, he forced his dark thoughts aside. " _A tranquil heart gives life to the flesh, but envy makes the bones rot,"(1)_ his mother would say. She was quite fond of _Proverbs_ and would often have Jack read it to her, since she had never learned herself. Jack wasn't the most faithful but he found there was a lot of truth held in those words.

Hidden beneath the canopy of trees, Jack unbuttoned his shirt and fanned his hat over his exposed chest. His skin was sticky, the product of a hard day's work, and the relief he felt at being out of the intense bite of the sun could only be matched by a plunge in the creek. He trekked forward, already seeing the break in the trees that led to the bank of the creek, when a loud splash gave him pause.

 _Huh? So I guess they did come here,_ he surmised.

Unless it was some of the men who work on the Liabråten's farm. Most of them were nice folk so Jack had no issue sharing his leisure with them.

Shedding off his shirt and discarding it with his hat, Jack kicked off his boots and crept towards the bank. He could hear more splashing coming from a few yards to his right. Peering around the tree, he saw a head of flaxen hair emerge from the water, water cascading off her bared shoulders, her milky skin shining—

…bared shoulders?

Jack's eyes bulged as he realized he was staring at the very naked backside of Elsa Liabråten. With a loud squeak, he stumbled headfirst off the bank and into the creek.

"Hva faen!" (2)

The expletive was something Jack had only heard Elsa use a handful of occasions, usually when she was taken by surprise. Even then, it would color her cheeks, a trait he found endearing about her.

But right now, he could see her cheeks coloring for entirely different reasons as she threw her arms over her breasts and crouched in the waist-deep water. "Jack! What is the meaning of this?"

Her accent sounded thicker than usual, only adding to the obvious distress she must have felt.

His knee hurt something fierce from his tumble but not as much as his head as it raced through every excuse he should be using to save his ass. But he was far too distracted by the vision before him to think anything coherently.

Her usually carefully braided hair was unrestrained, blanketing her shoulders beneath the water's surface. Although covered, he could see her cleavage peeking out from her hands, skin pale and un-kissed by the heat of the sun. It made something tingle inside of Jack, lit a flame that threatened to roar into a fire as he watched her teeth draw in her lower lip. How he would love to close the distance between them, take that lower lip himself, and taste her…

But as his eyes locked onto hers, he realized there was no desire in the way she was biting down on her lip. She was trying hard not to cry.

"I can explain," he began.

The hurt in her eyes made him feel immeasurable guilt. Belatedly, he ducked his head and stared at the surface of the water. "It was an accident. I was looking for Emily."

Somehow, the truth sounded as unbelievable as any lie he could have told.

"She's with Anna. They went for wild berries," Elsa said quietly.

This only made Jack feel even more stupid. Emily had mentioned earlier that she wanted to go to the wild berry patch. How could he have forgotten?

"I-I'm really sorry, Elsa," he said. "Really. I wasn't spying, I swear! I mean, trust me, if there was some way I could make it up to you—"

And that was when he was struck with an idea. A brilliantly stupid idea but one that would hopefully rectify the situation they found themselves in.

Turning so that his back was facing Elsa, Jack began unbuckling his drenched trousers.

"Jack, what are you…"

"It's the only way, Elsa," Jack said, with a mock serious tone.

"Jack, no, really, there's no need—"

"It's only fair."

"Jack, I believe you, please don't—"

"Too late!"

"Jackson Overland, I insist that you keep your pants on—!"

But Jack was already crouching in the water and tugging off his trousers. Once free, he tossed the wet garment up onto the bank and slowly turned to give Elsa a cheeky grin.

"See? Now we're both naked!"

Elsa stared at him.

And stared.

And kept staring at him as if he had lost his head.

Then she splashed him in the face.

"How is this better?!" she demanded.

Jack shook water from his brown hair and shrugged. "It's not like we haven't done this before."

"We were 6!" she replied, incredulously. "And both of our dads spanked us, remember? I wasn't allowed to see you for weeks after that!"

Jack did remember. It was probably the most boring month he could recall from his youth. Emily had been too young to play outside with him so he had to contend with playing alone until Mr. Liabråten was no longer convinced he was trying to corrupt the man's daughter.

"That's why we keep this between you and I. Besides, if the other girls found out you got to see Jackson Overland's naked backside, they'd be quite jealous," Jack said, winking.

Elsa looked torn between her worry and wanting to rip Jack's head off. Luckily, her hands were preoccupied with saving whatever modesty she had left, ruling out the possibility of the latter.

"…it is a rather nice backside," Elsa admitted, lips quirking in a secretive smile.

That, if anything, nearly made Jack's heart stop.

But he could see the mirth in her eyes. She was taking great joy in teasing him.

"Elsa Liabråten, are you mocking me?" Jack asked, gasping and pressing a hand to his chest. "You know my fragile heart can't take such cruelty."

Maybe it was their equal exposure in this strange turn of events but it seemed to spark a confidence in Elsa that Jack had hardly seen before. She waded a bit closer to him, arms still carefully covering her, causing the cool ripples to lick at Jack's skin. There was electricity in the air that was only matched by the teasing heat in her saccharine tone.

"How fragile a man's ego is. But I know better than to feed a fool. I see nothing to praise."

"Then I guess I really am a fool," Jack whispered. Heat rose up his neck, creeping into his cheeks, as he blurted the first thought that popped into his head. "Because all I see is beauty."

The seriousness in his tone caused Elsa to stop her advance. Her face seemed to flush further, her gaze dropping shyly. Her surprise made her hug herself insecurely, as if she was trying to hide in herself. He could now see her nipples, perked and rosy beneath the water's surface, and how maddening it was that he couldn't reach out and grasp her breasts, stroke her skin softly, taste the white flesh that not even the sun had chance to taste…

He was hard. And no amount of prayer or the wrath of God could stop his blood from pounding from his impure thoughts.

"Søster?! Hva gjør du?!" (3)

"Jack?!"

The surprise made nearly both of them jump out of the water. Anna and Emily stood on the bank, baskets of wild berries forgotten at their feet, as they gaped at their older siblings.

"We were—it's not—trust me, I wasn't—"

Jack's babbling brought no explanation while Elsa was silenced by the shame coloring her cheeks.

"Eww, are you naked?!" Emily said, making a disgusted face. "Gross! Jack, you're so gross!"

"Please, it's not like you haven't seen me naked before," Jack retorted. Living in a two room house meant sleeping and bathing arrangements demanded less privacy and how many times had she stormed in while he was bathing, demanding to know where the waste bucket was?

"I am so telling mom!" Emily said, her face blanching.

Elsa's eyes widened and she looked about ready to burst into tears.

 _Shit!_

For what was childish banter to Emily was really social suicide for Elsa.

"Mom's already pissed off about you shirking your chores today. How about we don't make her more angry," Jack started. "It's just a silly mistake. We weren't doing anything. Just ask Elsa."

But as he glanced over at Elsa, he could see her entire posture stiffen. The humiliation hit both of them like a tidal wave. And while Jack swam against the angry current, using his words to spare him whatever fate awaited them, he could already see Elsa drowning in it.

"Elsa?"

The look she gave him silenced any excuse he was about to babble. He felt all her hurt and betrayal in those deep, blue eyes and his defiance melted into shame.

Silently, and no longer caring about her exposure, she waded towards the bank. This time, Jack had enough humility left to look away as Elsa dressed and conversed quietly with her sister in Norwegian. The minutes that passed felt like hours of quiet torture.

Retrieving one of the baskets, a somberness fell upon the two sisters as Elsa turned towards the trees. "We should go home, Anna."

Anna nodded. "See you later, Emily."

Emily halfheartedly waved off her friend, watching until the sisters could no longer be seen in the shadows of the trees. The remaining siblings stood awkwardly, Jack still waist deep in the creek. Seeing the worried look on Emily's face, Jack realized she understood just how bad this was.

"This stays between us," Jack said, quietly.

Emily sighed but lost all the fire to continue their bickering from earlier. She bent down to pick up her basket when Jack cut in, "Oh and, uh, could you toss me my trousers?"

Grabbing the drenched garment, she muttered under her breath and flung it at Jack's face.

.

1 Proverbs 14:30

2 "What the hell?" denoting surprise.

3 "Sister, what are you doing?!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** I actually have time to write and edit for once so here's part 2! I will admit that it has been strange writing only from Jack's perspective but it is a nice change of pace since most of what I have written has been from Elsa's POV. A lot of this story has coming of age elements and almost reads like a series of drabbles. I find that is just my writing style, though. Translations/references at the end.

 **Warnings:** Sexuality, references to masturbation.

Chapter 2: The Market

October brought a sea of red that cascaded along the edge of the crop fields, the many hues of fall both blessing and curse: to walk within those woods had been a joyous experience in Jack's youth but now only reminded him of the work that needed to be done. The chill in the air promised the coming of the harvest and so the days grew longer as they grew shorter, and it was often well into evening before Jack would seat himself at the table to accept the remainder of dinner.

He tried not to think of Elsa. He didn't want to remember the hurt in her eyes or how she coldly brushed him off when they were discovered. Yet there were nights when he lay awake, her snow white skin and budding breasts a torment that sent blood flowing below his waist. The few times he let himself relieve his ache, his guilt became the milky essence that coated his fingers and he almost wanted to chop off his own hand in disgust.

Elsa hated him. Of that, he was sure.

He hadn't spoken to her since, though he was certain he caught a glimpse of her. It was while he was tending to the ripening pumpkins some weeks before. The afternoon wasn't especially hot but the ten hours of work he had already put in had him sweating up a storm. Tossing aside his shirt to take advantage of the cool, autumn breeze, he thought he felt a pair of eyes fall upon his tanned shoulders. He ignored it for some time, brushing it off as nothing, but it nagged at the back of his mind until his own curiosity got the better of him. When he glanced over his shoulder, he saw Anna following after a figure that had disappeared down the path between their properties.

"Anna's gone home?" Jack said, swiping at the sweat on his brow.

Emily came over to him and handed him a glass of water, to which he swallowed in a single gulp. "Elsa wants her to help with dinner."

He wanted to inquire further but their mother was already calling for Emily to go inside and start her chores.

Now, it was market day and Jack was setting up their stand in the market square. The little excess pumpkins, grain, and corn that they could spare for bartering littered the surface of their makeshift table, the rest in the cart. Emily fed some hay to Seymour, their old but still robust donkey, as farmers, carpenters, blacksmiths, and other tradesmen from the area, gathered in the square.

Jack had jotted down a list of items they needed. He had been coming to market since after he stopped crawling and was easily able to pick up his father's role after The Accident. A few other tradesmen had given him a rough time in the beginning but most had bartered low out of sympathy. After a while, Jack came into his own and was a welcome face in the market.

"Don't let him eat it all at once, Em," Jack cautioned. "We're gonna be here a while."

The morning passed mostly uneventfully. Jack and Emily managed to procure a new hoe from the Smiths. They also managed to barter off one of their pumpkins to get a few of their tools and utensils sharpened. Their knives had dulled and his mother threatened to scream 'bloody murder' if she had to go another night peeling the potatoes with a blunt knife.

Scrolling over the list, Jack nearly groaned out loud.

 _Potatoes._

They usually got their potatoes from the Liabråtens. This wasn't a problem, except that Mrs. Overland, who got on as famously with Mr. Liabråten as Jack didn't, was resting at home today. This meant that Jack would have to go and deal with Mr. Liabråten himself.

With a sigh, Jack picked up one of the larger pumpkins. "Mind the stand, Emily."

"Where are you going?"

 _To my deathbed._

"To get the potatoes. I'll be back shortly."

He didn't like leaving Emily alone but the Smiths had a stand nearby. Jack indicated silently to his sister and Mr. Smith gave a nod of understanding.

Navigating around the square, Jack headed to where he knew the Liabråtens like to set up shop. The bustle of people made it tricky to not bump into the traders and Jack found he was mumbling apologies every few seconds or so. As he swerved to avoid being knocked over by a cart, he stumbled over a black, shiny leather boot and curled his body to keep from dropping the pumpkin. His elbow hit the dirt hard as he came to a vicious crash with the ground.

"Shit!"

"Language, Overland," a thick accented voice practically purred in amusement.

Rubbing at his side, Jack glared up at the tall Scandinavian. "Westergaard."

The 6 foot tall redhead, with perfectly chiseled features and dangerous green eyes, smirked. "You seem to have taken quite the tumble."

"Most decent folk apologize when they knock someone over."

"Accidents happen," the redhead retorted, with a nonchalant shrug.

The Westergaards were not known for their humility, a first generation of Norwegian immigrants who found their luck in cattle ranching. They generally traded with the wealthier estates in the region, though one of two could be found wandering in the local market, especially with the Harvest coming. Preserved meats made for much needed protein in the vicious winter and the Westergaards had the best to offer.

Hans Westergaard, youngest of the Westergaard sons, toed the pumpkin in Jack's grip. "Fruits of your labor? How sad. I'd offer some of our lower grade cured meats but, unfortunately, my family prefers produce that looks edible."

"I'll take my chances on this than whatever poison you're bartering," Jack mumbled, knocking away Hans' foot. He painfully got to his feet and wiped away as best as he could the dust.

"Careful, Overland. You wouldn't want to go making enemies with the wrong people."

Jack had a few choice words he wanted to share but Hans appeared bored of their dialogue and continued on to one of the stands nearby. As much as Hans' poor attitude grated on Jack's nerves, there were some battles left for another time.

Balancing the pumpkin with his un-bruised arm, Jack limped along towards the Liabråten's stand. He tried his best to tidy up his appearance, already on edge for whatever scrutiny Mr. Liabråten would offer, and nearly tripped once again as he saw a familiar face reading quietly.

Elsa's long, elegant fingers turned the pages of the worn copy of Bunyan's The Pilgrim's Progress. Unlike last time, she was fully-clothed in a pearl-colored blouse and pale-green skirts, hair tucked back in a careful braid. It was a strange, but familiar, contrast to the boldness she had displayed weeks before.

"Elsa."

Jack set down the pumpkin on the table. As Elsa's eyes darted up, color splashed across her cheeks.

"Jack."

"I don't think I've seen you at market before."

An awkward moment passed between them. The memory of the skin hidden away beneath the layers made both of them lose composure. Jack found it impossible to look her in the eyes and settled for tracing invisible patterns on the tabletop, trying desperately, and failing, to banish any thoughts of her naked form.

"Father asked I accompany him," she answered, quietly.

"Must be quite boring," Jack mumbled. He indicated to the book in her hand. "That's got to be the millionth time you read that book."

Unlike many of the women in the area, both Anna and Elsa had been lucky enough to receive an education. They still received tutoring regularly enough, due to their family's modest earnings, and both read at a level higher than Jack. Jack was literate enough he could read the Bible, the only book owned by his family, and handle basic contracts. Emily could barely write her own name.

"It's nice to get away from the farm. I sometimes forget there's this many families in the area," she said. "But there's very little I find more intriguing than John Bunyan."

They both fell back into an uncomfortable silence. Jack's heart sank, a cold sense of dread dropping to the pit of his stomach. It had always been so easy to talk to Elsa, who has arguably been the closest friend he's had. When did everything get so complicated?

Feeling that he was overstaying his welcome, Jack whispered, "I should go."

He was ready to pick up the pumpkin when he felt her fingers brush his. "Don't".

The command was so quiet, he could have almost sworn it was the wind. But the warmth that emanated from the tip of his fingers sent a hot shiver across his skin. He looked to where their hands were barely touching so discreetly on the table's surface, inhaling sharply.

"Please don't go," she said again.

It was all so confusing. She could make him feel cold one instant and hot the next. He wasn't sure if he should fan the flames or treat the burn before it left an inevitable scar on him.

Hesitantly, he inched his hand forward, drawing their hands closer until he was linking his fingers in hers. His blood ran hot and she was making him dizzy in a way he had only ever experienced that one time he had tried some good mead. Caution be damned, he was going to burn himself with her flame.

"Jackson."

Elsa withdrew her hand as if it were on fire.

Jack flinched at the harsh octave, his name sounding like a curse to his own ears. Agnarr Liabråten was all business as he came up to Elsa's side, regarding Jack suspiciously.

"Your mother is not at market today?"

It was an observation posed mostly as a question. He may as well have said, _"Must I deal with you?"_ He may have been cordial but his face showed how inconvenienced he was by this.

"No, sir. She's not feeling well."

"Overworked herself again?" Mr. Liabråten inquired. Despite his misgivings about Jack, he was genuinely concerned. "Please send her my regards."

"I'll let her know, sir."

"Here for the usual?" Mr. Liabråten asked. He indicated to his notebook, which Elsa handed to him.

Jack grinned nervously. "Only the best for our neighbor! The pumpkins have come in nicely. I saved one of our largest for you."

Taking a seat beside his daughter, Mr. Liabråten opened the notebook and began jotting down notes with a quill. His neat scrawl was written in a script Jack couldn't read, though he suspected that Agnarr wrote his records in Norwegian.

"Oaken, 1lb poteter." (1)

A tall, bulky man with a jovial face picked up a sack from the Liabråten's large produce cart. Jack recognized him as one of the immigrant farmhands who worked for the Liabråtens. Although pleasant, Jack had never exchanged more than a few words with Oaken since the man hardly spoke any English.

"Thanks, Oaken," Jack said, to which the taller man simply smiled obliviously. Jack flinched as he took the sack with his bad arm and nearly dropped it.

Elsa's eyes widened in concern but she remained silent, hands crossed in her lap. It would hardly be appropriate for her to converse while her father was closing a transaction.

"You know, Jackson," Mr. Liabråten began, disapproval laced in his tone, "we have been neighbors for many years…"

Jack stiffened.

"…and I have watched you grow up before you were ready. What happened to your father was a tragedy none of us could foresee."

Jack straightened his posture. "They say _suffering produces endurance, endurance produces character. (2)_ We may have been dealt a bad hand, but we get by."

"That may be true, for one so young. You have many years of tilling the soil ahead of you. But your mother—"

"I do my best to take care of her," Jack cut in. There was an edge to his tone. Social conventions said he should treat an older, and more successful, farmer with the utmost respect. But he was coming under a familiar scrutiny that ate away at his pride.

"Even so, it wouldn't be neighborly of me to ignore the struggles of a fellow farmer. I have extra hands who would be more than willing to offer you assistance in the harvest."

For what appeared a generous offer as a concerned neighbor was really a veiled insult. Jack was the heir to his father's land. Any charity he accepted was a public announcement of his inability to run a farm on his own and would lower his status among the other traders in the market.

The Overlands lived in a constant state teetering between survival and poverty. But he'd be damned if he owed Agnarr anything.

"I'm afraid I'll have to decline, sir. But your concern is duly noted."

The frostiness in his voice didn't escape Mr. Liabråten's notice.

"Humility is not taught but learned," Mr. Liabråten said, narrowing his eyes. "You could gain more of that _character_ you speak so smugly about."

"Pappa," Elsa said, a plea in her voice.

"Gutten kan ikke løfte en sekk med poteter," (3) Mr. Liabråten said, irritably.

Jack was certain it was some kind of insult, though all he could understand was "boy" and "potatoes". A vicious retort danced on his tongue.

"I'm afraid that would be my fault."

Jack never thought he would see the day he would be grateful for Hans. The obnoxious redhead was all smiles as he approached the stand, respectfully dipping his head.

"Herr Liabråten."

Immediately, Mr. Liabråten stood, bowing his head and grasping Hans' proffered hand in a tight grip. "Herr Westergaard. Hvordan har du det?" (4)

"Quite well. Though I must admit, with some embarrassment, I am the reason Herr Overland is limping about like some lame mutt." With an apologetic smile, Hans clapped Jack on the shoulder that was bruised, causing the slimmer man to visibly cringe. "We had quite the collision earlier. I must make more effort to tread carefully in these markets."

"You can hardly be blamed, Herr Westergaard," Mr. Liabråten said. "It is quite crowded today. Accidents happen."

It made Jack's stomach turn at how easily everyone bought Westergaard's act. The man had not a kind bone in his body but with a charming smile, and a lot of money to his name, he had everyone in this market fighting to lick the shit off his boots.

"Cordialities aside, there is an important business matter that needs to be discussed." Hans caught Elsa's gaze, seeming to scrutinize her. To Jack's dismay, he saw her redden and shift uncomfortably, as if she was trying to shrink into the table. The exchange troubled him, jealousy clawing beneath the grim expression set on his face. But his pride had already taken a vicious beating and he was too dispirited to reflect more on the matter.

Looking back to Mr. Liabråten, Hans smiled. "If you have the time, that is."

"Of course, Herr Westergaard." With little more than a wave of his hand, Agnarr said, "I do hope your mother recovers soon, Jackson. Oaken, poteter."

Jack had no more fight in him. With a light bow of his head, he limped beside Oaken and walked back towards his cart. He could feel Elsa's concerned eyes on him but he was too ashamed to look back and see the pity on her face.

She may not have hated him like he thought. But she most certainly thought very little of him now.

.

1 Oaken, 1 lb of potatoes.

2 Romans 5:3

3 The boy can't carry a sack of potatoes.

4 Mr. Westergaard. How are you?


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** This chapter is shorter than the others. It's very PG compared to every other chapter in this fic so no warnings. Thank you to the reviewers so far! I admit that I have a bad habit of not responding to reviews but if any of the guests/anons have any questions between chapters, I will respond to them in the A/N of each update. Your encouragement is very much appreciated and I am so happy to see that this fandom is still going strong :D!

Chapter 3: The Confession

The first frost brought a chill to Jack's bones and made the mornings a struggle. Between what little warmth the shared covers brought (Jack and Emily doubled up in the cold seasons to avoid purchasing extra blankets) and the late fall promising the start of winter, Jack's body protested but his will always won out. Before the first light would break in the horizon, he was outside feeding Seymour and ready to begin another day.

The last of the corn was picked, set aside for Emily to parch and add to the winter stores. His mother later took Seymour out to see the Jorgensons, who had promised to set aside a partridge and jerked venison. Thanksgiving was one of the few days they bartered for fresh meat and Jack was already looking forward to this simple luxury, to be cooked and served the next day.

By the afternoon, the frost had long since melted yet the daylight was already being chased by the oncoming evening. The many hues of orange and red splashed across the sky. Jack paused his wood-chopping, his arms aching fiercely, and allowed himself a moment to appreciate the turn of the day.

"You must be exhausted."

He was startled to hear her voice, tired enough to nearly convince himself he must be imagining it. How many weeks has it been since he last heard it?

He looked over his shoulder and sure enough, she was there. The over sized cloak that protected her from the cold made Elsa seem smaller but no less radiant in Jack's eyes. Her braid burned with the many tones of the fiery sky but her eyes remained as bright blue as a summer day. Staring into them made Jack forget the summer had ended months before.

Setting down the ax, Jack wanted to turn towards her, to believe in the warmth her voice conveyed. _You must be exhausted._ But all he heard was pity. Did she also believe he was as useless as her father made him out to be?

"Nothing I can't handle," Jack said coolly. He retrieved the chopped wood, adding it to the pile outside the tool shed. He could feel Elsa's eyes follow his movements and it made him feel too scrutinized. "Isn't it getting late?"

The dismissal was clear. As much as it hurt him, Jack wanted to save what little pride he had left.

"I often go for walks at this time. It helps me think," Elsa said quietly. Jack could hear her boots crunch in the hard earth behind him. "I wanted to give this to you."

From the corner of his eye, he could see the woven basket she carried in her gloved hands.

"I don't need your charity."

He roughly shoved the last log onto the top of the pile. The force toppled some of the logs off and he cursed under his breath.

He bent down to pick up the wood and noticed Elsa set down her basket and do the same.

"Elsa…" he warned.

Her pristine skirts dragged in the earth, soiling a garment that would probably cost their entire winter stock to barter for. Here she was, a woman worth more than the skin on his back, dirtying herself for him. Because that's all Jack ever was: a stain against her perfection.

Her gloved hand grasped his arm tightly. Jack's breath hitched.

"Jack…please," she whispered.

Then, without another word, she began stacking the wood. They worked together in silence for many minutes, the tension thick enough that not even the Overland's recently sharpened cutlery could slice through it. Once finished, they let the silence drag, both of them still crouched in the soil.

"This isn't charity," Elsa finally said. She placed the basket between them and lifted cloth. "It's an apology."

A rich smell wafted from the basket, immediately causing Jack's mouth to water. A small piece of sliced bread had been carefully wedged against a bowl of stew. Given the distance of their properties, the stew was lukewarm at best but the gesture made Jack feel like an ass.

"It's hardly a meal," Elsa said, shyly. "But I made it fresh earlier. I thought you would like it."

Jack carefully raised the bowl from the basket. It was still warm to the touch and smelled delicious.

"My father was so unkind to you," Elsa continued. She folded her hands in her lap, dropping her gaze. "As was I. I shouldn't have let him say those things to you."

Jack took a sip from the bowl and actually heard himself groan. "This is amazing, Elsa."

She flushed but failed to hold back her laugh. Jack felt like a glutton as he downed the rest of it but it had been hours since he last ate. Taking the bread, he dipped it in the bowl and chewed hungrily on it. Then, recalling how he had acted, he looked guiltily back at Elsa.

"He's right, though."

Elsa started to shake her head but that didn't stop Jack from his self-pity.

"He is, Elsa. You know he is," Jack said. Swallowing the last of the bread, he sighed. "I'm not the man my father was. I do my best but…I can barely keep up. And when I'm not failing at farming, I'm messing everything else up. Had anyone else seen us that day, you would have been ruined."

As Elsa realized what he was talking about, her face went crimson. "Jack—really, it's not that big of a deal—"

"No, it is. I should be the one making it up to you. Instead, I keep fucking things up."

She coughed a little uncomfortably at the expletive. "Well…"

"He's only looking out for you, Elsa," Jack pressed on. "He doesn't want you to have idiots for friends. He probably thinks I'm a bad influence."

"Friends?" Elsa looked quite surprised. Even to him, the word sounded misplaced. "…you really don't know what this is about…"

Now it was Jack's turn to be surprised. "The man's never liked me, Elsa. He's made that clear since we were kids."

"He's only disliked you because he knows me better than I know myself." As the words slipped out, Elsa drew a hand to her lips. It was like she was trying to catch the sound but it was already too late. It only made Jack all the more confused. "I've said too much."

Gathering the basket and her skirts, she stood up abruptly. "I need to get home."

"Huh?" Jack was completely dumbfounded. Elsa was already retreating towards the path in the trees. "Elsa? Elsa, wait!"

Jack stumbled to his feet and began to pursue her. Despite their height differences, Elsa had a killer stride in her heels. It wasn't until they had both entered into the trees that Jack finally caught up with her, breathing heavily. "Elsa! W-wait up!"

He grasped her arm and she stopped abruptly. He almost collided into her. She was also panting.

"Wh-what does that even mean?"

From where his hand gripped her shoulder, he could feel her tremble. He was almost foolish enough to believe it was from the early evening air.

"I lied to you," she said. Her voice was shaky. "That day in the market."

Had she even heard his question?

"I…I don't know…" he began.

She turned, staring up at him with wide eyes. Jack swallowed uncomfortably. She looked more vulnerable and exposed than she had in the creek.

"I told you my father wanted me there. But he didn't," she explained. "I asked him—no, I begged him to let me go."

"So you wanted to do some shopping…" Jack said, a bit stupidly.

"You're really not following me," Elsa said, with a shaky sigh. Placing her hand gently on his wrist, she gazed at him with raw, unbidden affection. "It wasn't about shopping, Jack. I went to the market with the sole purpose of seeing you."

"…but we live next to each other…"

He didn't understand this. None of this was making any sense.

"My father hardly lets me out of his sight, not since turning 16 this summer. Haven't you noticed we hardly see each other anymore?" Elsa explained. "The only reason I came tonight is because he's in town on business."

Jack stared at Elsa in disbelief. He had attributed their distance to his schedule and her anger at the incident in the creek. He hadn't thought her father had forbidden her from seeing him.

"So you're saying…you're not angry I saw you naked?"

"Well—I—" Elsa cleared her throat nervously. "That's beside the point."

"Well then what is the point, Elsa?" Jack said, growing frustrated. "Because all you've said so far is your dad has it out for me. That's just how it's always been. How does you turning 16 change any of this?!"

"Because he sees the way I look at you!"

Her entire body was shaking. Her confession made time itself stand still as Jack fell into stunned silence. The hand that had gripped her fell loosely to his side.

Elsa waited for Jack to say something but each moment ripped away the little piece of herself she had given him. The hope in her eyes dimmed with silent rejection, eyes sparkling with tears. "Forget I said anything. Goodnight, Jack."

It wasn't until her boots crunched over the fallen leaves that Jack remembered to breathe. He tried to find his voice, to call out to her, but his pounding heart was screaming in his ears. He was certain it would drown out any sound he tried to make.

It took only three strides for Jack to close the distance. He was gripping her hard, turning her with enough force to press her against his chest. Her sharp intake of breath was silenced by the lips that crashed against hers, the kiss both confession and apology. She was so close that her scent intoxicated him, made him delirious. He had always thought that if he tasted those lips, it would drown his thirst for her but it only made him want to drink more from her.

Pulling back from her, he sighed softly, resting his head against hers. A low shiver curled down his spine but he was certain he wasn't shaking from the cold. As he opened his eyes to gaze into hers, a lone tear escaped down her cheek.

"Hey," he whispered, his trembling hand coming up to wipe away the tear. Her cheek felt smooth against his rough fingers. "It's okay, Elsa. It's going to be okay."

"No," she whispered, shaking her head. She gripped his hand and stepped back from him. "It's not. Jack…"

As she said his name, her voice cracked. He tried to reach for her but she dropped his hand and stepped away once more.

"Elsa…" he said, worriedly. "What's wrong?"

"This can't be, this won't work."

"If we just tell your father—"

"No, it's too late," she cried, wiping at her tears. "I've already been promised to someone else."

Jack's body froze. With just a few words, he could feel his entire world shatter. "Who?"

Like a fool, he had to ask. But that same, sinking feeling he had experienced in the market came roaring back, burning in the pit of his stomach. He already knew what her answer would be.

"Hans Westergaard."


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** As I go back and edit this, I realize that the Overlands in my story have it really tough. But this was the impression I got from Jack's memories in ROTG. I first came up with the idea when I asked myself, "What would it have been like if Elsa lived when Jack was human?" and from there, the postcolonial AU was born. For everyone reading so far, you can tell that this story is not going in a happy direction. This chapter is a little bit heavy so please check the warnings before continuing.

 **Warnings:** Mentions of blasphemy, Helsa. It is technically an arranged marriage so there is a lack of mutual consent. Also, people with eating disorders or experiences with starvation may be a bit bothered by some of the descriptions used.

Chapter 4: The Proposal

Darkness had fallen when Jack emerged from the woods. The cold air nipped at his skin but he trudged on in forlorn silence, his head replaying the last words they had spoken.

 _This can't be…_

His boots crunched loudly into the hard earth.

 _I've already been promised to someone else._

The stacked wood, neatly organized against the shed. Even that had its imprint of her.

 _Hans Westergaard._

With an angry cry, Jack picked up the ax and flung it hard against the pile of wood. It toppled over noisily but with it went every trace of her. He wanted to erase her from memory, end this cruel game they had started months before. But like a drowning fool, he kept trying to swim against the tide until he was too exhausted to make it back to shore.

Collapsing to his knees, his entire body shook. He wasn't sure if it was the cold that his ragged cloak failed to protect against. Maybe it was the pain of losing her before he's had her, the rage at the injustice of it all. Westergaard may be the youngest in line to a fortune but even the scraps he'd receive would be more than Jack could ever hope to make. Hans had undoubtedly made an offer Liabråten couldn't refuse.

Inhaling deeply, Jack went back to work. His trembling hands piecing together, rebuilding the pile until it was satisfactory. It was sloppy but it was _his_ , not _their,_ work. And that was how he had always lived: when even the crops fail, a farmer puts on his hat and gets back out in the field to till once more.

He was silent in the days to follow. Thanksgiving came and went and while he forced a smile, said his prayers, and pretended to be _thankful_ , he secretly cursed his Maker for the extra chair at their table that was empty these last three years.

 _Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. (1)_

He was starting to believe the Bible was full of shit, meant to make the many whose hands labored from dawn until dusk carry false hope in this doomed life.

Once the first snow had fallen, the work on the farm was nearly put to a halt. There was still wood chopping and animal rearing to attend to (dear old Seymour became quite ornery when not fed before first light), but Jack was finally able to have a moment's peace. This was the time of year he often looked forward to: adventures out in the woods, skating on the creek, building snowmen with…

But now, he wished he had the distraction of the harvest. She was all he could think about.

"Jaaaaaaaaaack! Earth to Jack!"

Emily jumped up and down, waving her hands, but Jack kicked dejectedly at the snow. It made him think of Elsa's skin, pale and delicate like a fresh snowfall. On the surface, it was cold but Jack had seen her layers melt, knew now what was in her heart.

SMACK!

Jack stumbled a few steps, rubbing at the back of his head. He shivered as some of the snow melted and slipped beneath the collar of his cloak. "What the hell, Emily?!"

"Mom says not to curse, Jack! It's not ladylike!"

Emily bounced around him in the snow, kicking up powder.

"That's what she tells _YOU_ ," Jack mumbled, glaring at his sister. "Why don't you go play with Anna? Or do something useful like help Mom with lunch?"

"Anna has tutoring in the mornings. And I wanna play with youuuuu," Emily whined.

"I'm not in the mood, Em."

She stopped in front of him and folded her arms defiantly over her chest. Although Jack still had two feet on her, she could be quite imposing when she wanted to be. "You are never in the mood! All you ever do is mope!"

"I'm not moping!"

"Are too!"

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

Jack sighed. There was no way he was going to outlast an 11 year old in this cycle of banter.

"Can you please lay off, Em? This is one of those things you'll understand when you're older."

She seemed offended at the way he so easily brushed her off. "I'm not dumb, Jack. Everyone knows you _kjærlighet (2)_ Elsa."

Jack raised a brow.

"Love!" Emily said in frustration.

"I know what that means, Em."

"Anna teaches me words too, you know," Emily said. "And what you need to do is tell Elsa, ' _jeg elsker deg_.'" (3)

Jack's face colored. "I'm not saying that to her."

"Why not?"

"Because she's getting married!"

"So?" Emily shrugged her shoulders. "That doesn't mean you can't say words to her, Jack."

"She's promised. She can't be seen with a man who is not her intended," Jack argued.

Emily looked at Jack as if he was an idiot. "…then why don't YOU marry her?"

"Don't you think I want to!"

He said it on impulse. It wasn't something he had thought about, never considered getting married if he was honest with himself. The most thought he ever gave it was a task he would have to complete once he had a few more years on his back and even then, there was no face to the person he would call 'wife'.

But hearing it said out loud, something clicked.

"I want to," Jack said. "I really do. But her father won't allow it."

"Have you even tried?"

Jack laughed bitterly. "It's not that simple. We're not rich. What am I supposed to offer him?"

"So you're just gonna give up?" Emily said. She seemed as frustrated with him as Jack was with the situation. "Overlands don't quit. Dad—" Her voice cracked. With a shaky breath, she continued. "He wouldn't let you quit. He would have found a way."

Their father, his skin darkened from years in the fields and hands rough like the untilled soil, would have sold his left arm if it was worth anything to help his family. As roughened as his body was over the years of toil, his smile had always been the hope in the Overlands' darkest days. There were times like this when Jack could have used his wisdom.

"Em…"

He leaned down and hugged her tightly. She shook in his arms. Their father was almost a taboo subject in their household, though his absence a constant reminder.

"I don't want you to be sad anymore," Emily whispered.

"I'll try not to be."

He stood up and smiled, ruffling her dark hair. "Thanks, little goose."

"You promised you would stop calling me that!" she laughed, hitting him playfully.

Jack gasped dramatically, gripping his chest. He collapsed into the snow, faking an injury. When Emily loomed over him, actually concerned she may have hit him too hard, he grappled her and pinned her so he was sitting on her, crowing victoriously.

"Not fair!" she complained, flailing.

"Vengeance is sweet," Jack laughed, sticking his tongue out at her.

He may have missed his father but there was no denying Emily inherited some of his wisdom. Her words stayed with Jack, feeding the fire he had been resolved to let die. Over the next few days, he mulled over the various scenarios. He could let the scene play out, become a passive observer and accept that he never had a chance. Or he could throw his own offer on the table. It may not rival all that Hans could give Elsa but if Agnarr knew his daughter's heart, and how genuine Jack was, maybe he could appeal to a father's desire to see his daughter happy.

It was a risk with little chance of success. But Jack knew he had to take it.

"Contracts like that are not broken easily," his mother warned. Her tired eyes regarded her son with worry, nimble fingers adjusting his collar. "People will talk."

Jack adjusted his over-sized shirt, stuffing as much of it as he could into his trousers. The cuffs were frayed, the shirt an off-white color from years of wear. It had been a hand-me down of his father's, what Jack would often wear to Sunday service. It was the only clothing he owned not marked by the days spent in the fields.

Freshly groomed, Jack sighed nervously as he strode to where he had placed his notes. The worn parchment had his messy scrawl. His offer. His fingers touched the old Bible beside it. If he could work some miracle tonight, maybe he would be more of a believer.

"Hans doesn't know Elsa like I do. She doesn't want this," Jack said. He picked up his cloak and retrieved his walking stick.

"We often don't," his mother said, quietly.

They exchanged a short, meaningful look. Then his mother placed the parchment in a basket and handed it to Jack. "There's a rhubarb pie in there. Agnarr's favorite. Maybe lead with that."

He knew she didn't agree with what he was doing. Still, she trusted him enough to make his own decisions and for that, Jack was grateful. "Thank you. For doing this."

She leaned up and kissed his cheek, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "Good luck, sweetie."

The walk to the Liabråten's farm was easy, even in winter. Jack took one of the lanterns from the tool shed and secured it to his walking stick. Although he could easily find his way there in the dark, even he wasn't foolhardy enough to test Mother Nature. He used his staff to avoid any hidden patches of ice and deep snow drifts, occasionally whistling to himself to calm his nerves. He didn't enjoy interacting with Mr. Liabråten on a regular day so each step felt like he was walking into his grave.

When finally he caught sight of their house, illuminated by the few lanterns that hung from the walls, Jack took a deep breath and crossed the field. It was a beautiful night this evening, with little wind and numerous stars blanketing the night sky. Without the cover of the trees, he could appreciate the marvels of God's creation, if only he could calm the panic that bubbled beneath his stoic expression.

Rapping on the door, Jack inhaled deeply once more.

"God kveld,"(4) a woman said. The stocky, kind-faced maid ( _Ingrid_?) looked over Jack curiously. "H-hallo?"

"Jackson Overland. From the Overland farm," Jack said.

Her confusion was quickly replaced with recognition. "Ah, Jack! How big!"

She gestured to mean his height. Jack hadn't seen Ingrid since last year, just before he had hit a growth spurt in the fall, so he couldn't blame her for not recognizing him.

"It's good to see you, Ingrid," Jack said, smiling. He hoped he got her name right. He didn't need the maid turning him away before he had a chance to see Agnarr. "I know I didn't send a formal invitation but I wanted to see Herr Liabråten."

"Herr Liabråten?" At the mention of the head of the household, Ingrid frowned. "He…busy. Family."

"Please, Ingrid. It's important," Jack said. Pulling the parchment from the basket, he kept it in hand and gave the basket to Ingrid. "For Herr Liabråten."

Nodding in understanding, Ingrid gestured for Jack to come inside. Jack wouldn't let her take his cloak, but he did set his staff down by the entrance.

Following her into the small study, he took a seat by the fire as Ingrid left to find Mr. Liabråten. It had literally been years since Jack had been allowed inside the Liabråten home, though he knew that Emily still came often enough. He could see the little changes that had been added over the years, the extra bookshelf with its novels and parchments. The bearskin rug placed decoratively by his feet. It seemed that the more the Overland farm struggled, the better the Liabråten's succeeded.

"Good evening, Jackson."

Jack abruptly stood to his feet, bowing his head. "Mr. Liabråten. Thank you for seeing me so late."

"I wouldn't have, under normal circumstances," Mr. Liabråten admitted, "but I cannot say 'no' to your mother's rhubarb pie. Please, sit."

Out of respect, Jack waited until Agnarr was comfortably seated across from him. He straightened his posture and clasped his hands together to keep them from trembling. When the fire crackled noisily, he nearly jumped out of his skin.

"How is your mother's health?" Mr. Liabråten asked.

"She's had better days. But she gets on well enough. Not even a flu will keep her off her feet when there's work to be done."

"She must take advantage of the weather and rest. You may let her know that Iduna and I insist on it."

"Thank you for your concern," Jack said, "I will pass on the message. And your wife?"

"In good health, though a bit of a nightmare now that there is a wedding to plan," Agnarr said, with a wry smile. The mention of the wedding made Jack's stomach drop. "I cannot wait for this business to be over with, though it pains me to see my eldest leave. A son's marriage is always cause for celebration yet a daughter's almost feels like a funeral."

He paused for a moment, regarding Jack carefully. He seemed to be gauging Jack's reaction, who flinched under the man's scrutiny.

"But I doubt you came to hear the ramblings of an old man," Mr. Liabråten continued. "What brings you here this evening, Jackson?"

"I…it's—it's about…"

Even sitting, Jack felt as if Agnarr towered over him. Getting to his feet, Jack walked a pace towards the fireplace and took a deep, sobering breath. When he finally felt his voice wouldn't give, he turned back to face the man who would be able to either dash his hopes or see them fulfilled.

"Elsa," Jack said. Mr. Liabråten's expression grew grim. "I came to speak with you about Elsa."

"It's hardly appropriate to come calling after a woman who's promised," Agnarr began.

"No, that's not what I meant," Jack interrupted. With a shaky breath, he said, "I want to ask for her hand."

Agnarr wouldn't respond immediately. Each second that went by made Jack lose more and more of whatever bravado he had mustered to suggest his proposal.

"She is already intended," Agnarr said, a little patronizingly. "By contract."

"I understand that," Jack said. He pulled the parchment from his cloak. "But if you're just hear my off—"

"No."

The sharpness in Agnarr's tone made Jack stop. He lowered the proffered hand to his side, the parchment threatening to be crushed by his vice-like grip.

 _You're gonna give up? Just like that?_ He mentally chastised himself.

"Please, sir," he said quietly. "Please give me a chance."

This was the point at which he expected to be thrown out and banished for having tested Mr. Liabråten's patience. To his surprise, Agnarr reached forward and took the parchment from him. Jack held his breath as Agnarr unrolled the parchment and began silently reading it.

"…there's an 'i' in 'yield'," he said, squinting in the dim lighting. "What word is this?"

Jack blushed. "Wheat. I, uh, was only schooled until I was 10."

"I see."

Agnarr became silent once more.

After a few, agonizingly long minutes, he rolled up the parchment. "This 'wedding gift' you're offering. It's…"

"About 20% of next year's yield," Jack said. Hastily, he added, "I know it's a bit of a mess, the way I broke it down. But I promise you it will be no less than 20."

"It's…generous," Agnarr said. His brows furrowed with concern. "Are you certain you can get by on such an offer?"

Jack wanted to give a confident affirmation. But even he knew that this would be enough to starve his family, if the weather proved at all unpredictable next year. His offer could only be met in the most favorable of harvests.

His hesitation did not go unnoticed by Agnarr.

"I will put in more hours every day to ensure these yields are met," Jack promised.

Agnarr did not look swayed. "A wager on the weather is one every man will lose. As a farmer, you should know this, Jackson."

"I wouldn't let my mother or Emily starve. I won't let the same happen to Elsa. I'll work twice as hard if I need—"

"And how exactly will you keep her from starving if you're giving away a good portion of your yields?" Agnarr argued, frustration in his voice. "You're one man working a handful of acres."

"Because I love her!" Jack said. "You know I do since you've always been so hell bent on letting her know how much of a failure you think I am!"

"I am not sure where you get this notion of the importance of 'love', Mr. Overland," Agnarr said. There was a frosty edge to his voice. "But love doesn't feed a family."

Rising to his feet, Mr. Liabråten took three paces towards the fireplace. Jack's body was shaking from his outburst, both rage and embarrassment pushing him to want to lash out at the one man who has always come between him and Elsa.

But as he watched Agnarr, who always walked with the air of someone so accomplished, he saw the older man's shoulders sag.

"I know that only too well," Agnarr said, quietly.

The tension melted away in the room. Instead, it was replaced with the bitter sting of grief.

"You must think I hate you, Jackson."

 _The thought's certainly never crossed my mind,_ he wanted to retort.

"On the contrary, you remind me of someone else who was young and foolhardy: myself."

This took Jack by surprise.

"Did you know I had a son?" Agnarr said. He regarded Jack with a sad smile before staring back into the fire. "His name was Fredrik."

The pain in the older man's eyes brought back memories of the summer from 3 years before. Jack was familiar with that pain and dreaded the day he would once again experience it.

"Elsa's told me about him," Jack answered.

The truth was he hadn't known Elsa had an older brother until after his father died. Those first few weeks after the Accident had been rough but Elsa had been there for him: she let him cry, rage, curse even the Lord in his despair. It was then she had opened up about Fredrik and spoke of what little she remembered of Norway.

"She was but a girl when it happened. You know, she used to be a lot like Anna," Agnarr mused. "Running around, causing her parents all sorts of grief.

"But life was hard in Noreg. (5) There were many disputes over land and fighting. Always everyone fighting. The soil grew worse and while we struggled and starved, we lived in fear that a foreign army would come and ravage our town.

"I thought if I worked hard, lived honestly, it would be enough. I could take care of my family. But then Fredrik—"

His voice shook as he said his dead son's name.

"Do you know what it is like to not have food for 3 days?" Agnarr whispered. There was trepidation in his voice, his eyes clouded with the horrors of memory. He looked to Jack, seeking understanding, but all Jack could do was numbly shake his head.

"Iduna and I know it, far more than we would like. And Elsa…she's known it, too."

The revelation made something in Jack shatter.

"A 3 year old girl should not know that feeling. It starts as an itch, like fingers crawling to get their way out. Then it turns to a long, hollow pang that makes one weary and weak.

"She cried by the end of the first day. She kept asking her Pappa for food," Agnarr said. His eyes watered and in shame, he could no longer meet Jack's gaze. "By the second day, her wailing became groans. Her and her brother stopped asking because they knew there was nothing. Our crops wouldn't make it to harvest and Iduna and I had to—"

He paused. "I won't say what we did for food. But we did it for our children.

"I thought that it was over: we made it through the worst. But it happened again. And again. And then we were eating so infrequently, Fredrik—"

Agnarr's voice cracked. "...I hope you never know what it is like to hold your dead son in your arms."

"I am sorry. I didn't know."

But even his apologies sounded weak to his ears. Jack knew loss all too well. Which words could ever convey the giant, empty hole left in the absence of someone taken too early?

"With all due respect, sir, I know you don't want your family to ever have to suffer like that again. And I will hold true to my offer, even if it takes time," Jack promised. "What if I still offered 20? 10 percent the first year, 10 in the second?"

Agnarr sighed. "I don't think you understand, Jackson. This isn't about how much you can give me. This is about how much you can give her.

"Can you guarantee me that you have enough resources to support her and your children? That she will never have to remember what it's like to not eat?"

Jack wanted to argue. But he knew any promise he made was as changeable as the weather. His family had already experienced a few close calls and they did not have the same resources and connections to fall back on in tough times.

"I…I can't," he admitted, quietly.

The admission dashed any hope he had of changing Agnarr's mind.

"I think you understand now why I can't let you marry my daughter. The offer from Hans is security. And you…you will bring her nothing but hardship."

Placing a hand gently on Jack's shoulder, Mr. Liabråten said, kindly but firmly, "I beg you, as her father, that if you love my daughter like you say you do, you will do what's best for her. Please, promise me you will stay away from her and forget this meeting ever happened."

He offered the parchment to Jack. Internally, Jack struggled with his options. He stubbornly wanted to fight on but even he knew that this was driven by his selfish desires.

He loved Elsa. He would do anything for her.

Even if that means forgetting about her.

Taking the parchment from Agnarr, Jack tossed it in the fireplace. As the flames licked away the last fragments of his offer, so too did the hope of ever holding Elsa in his arms again.

"I will, sir."

A loud clatter from the hallway disrupted the somber moment shared by the two men. Agnarr glanced towards the door with a tired sigh.

"I should see if Ingrid needs any help. Shall I have her show you the way out?"

"There's no need, sir. I can let myself out."

With the last of their pleasantries exchanged, Jack woodenly followed after Mr. Liabråten. Once outside, the chill of the night air bit at his skin but all Jack could feel was the hollow void that echoed in his chest.

.

1 James 1:2

2 love

3 I love you.

4 Good evening.

5 Norway.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:** I love writing smut, hate writing virginity loss. But every now and then, I welcome the challenge. I did do some research on what colonial women wore to figure out how Elsa would be dressed (conveniently, it was not practical for women to wear anything resembling underwear). I also tried to find the right balance between awkward and sexy since this is two 16 year olds without any experience whatsoever. As always, please check the warnings. Thanks to everyone reviewing so far and let me know what you think!

 **Warnings:** Mentions of Helsa (arranged marriage, hinted consent issue). Oh, and smut. First-time, virginity loss. Technically underage (not in my country but some of you may live somewhere where the age of consent is 18).

Chapter 5: The Tryst

The winter night was quiet, a serene silence falling across the fields. Each footfall crunched against the snow, the only sound that seemed to echo towards the edge of the trees. Jack knew where to go instinctively, the path as familiar as the back of his hand. Yet though he saw the path before him, he didn't actually see it. His mind was still in Mr. Liabråten's study, the man's words a numbing reminder of all Jack had given up.

" _Promise me you'll stay away from her…"_

And he agreed.

"Jack!"

He was certain his mind was playing tricks on him.

"Jack, wait!"

He heard her boots breaking into the snow behind him. Part of him wanted to believe it was her, come to throw obligations to the wind. Another part of him wanted her to go away, to not tempt him to break a promise so young in the making.

He turned and sure enough, by the light of his lantern, he saw her come towards him.

"Jack!"

Her eyes shone, her breath passing through her lips in steamy wisps. How he wanted to throw down his staff and take her in his arms, shield her from the cold.

"You shouldn't be here, Elsa," he said, ignoring the twitch in his fingers. Reason had won. "It's late. It's not right for a woman to be out like this."

"You sound just like my father," Elsa said, shaking her head. There was a note of sadness in her voice. "Always telling me what's best without asking what I want."

"It's not like that—" Jack started to protest.

"Then what is it 'like', Jack? When did I get a say in any of this?"

He couldn't so much as hear her frustration as he saw it in the way she clenched her fists at her sides. Like a feral animal waiting to lash out at its captor. Elsa had spent her entire life imprisoned by everyone's expectations for her and he could see what little patience she had left begin to crumble.

By some will unknown even to him, she kept her composure. Maybe it was defeat.

"I heard everything," she said, quietly.

At her admission, Jack couldn't help but release a bitter laugh. As his breath misted in the air, that trace of bitterness seemed to remain as palpable as the ache in his chest.

"So, you heard me make a right fool of myself? This night just keeps getting better."

"You're not a fool, Jack. Don't listen to my father! He shouldn't have used Fr—my brother, like that."

"He's only looking out for you. He—we want what's best for you."

Though he said it, he certainly didn't believe what he was saying. He had to force himself to believe this was what was best for everyone.

"I wish you and Hans happiness," he whispered.

The flash of hurt in her eyes made the ache in his chest ripple like a reopened wound. He began to walk away, knowing that if he looked at her any longer, he would lose the rest of his resolve.

"But I don't want Hans. I want you."

Her words gripped him like a vice. The broken plea shattered the dam that had been building all evening and he could no longer hold it back.

"And you think that you wanting me changes any of this?" he asked, angrily. "It doesn't matter what we want, Elsa! You heard your father: I'm not good enough for you!"

His shoulders were shaking. He could feel the angry sting of tears burn his eyes. Much to his shame, he felt them slip down his cheeks.

"I don't know why I ever let myself believe I could be," he said, his voice breaking. "You deserve everything. And all I can give you is nothing."

"Jack…"

She reached for him and pulled him into her arms. Unraveling before her eyes, Jack gripped her tightly, burying his face into her shoulder. His staff dropped to the snow, snuffing out the flame from the lantern. But in the dark, he clung to her, her embrace defiance against the empty future that awaited him. He would make the most of the few moments they could share.

"You don't need to give me anything, Jack," Elsa whispered. "I just need you."

He lifted his head and saw a tear trickle down her cheek. For all that the rejection of his proposal hurt him, nothing pained him as much as seeing Elsa cry.

"Jeg elsker deg," he said, wiping away her tears. He looked deep into her eyes, his words carrying the memory of a promise kept. By the light of the stars, he saw her eyes shine.

.

" _You can't just say that!" Elsa said, her face going as red as a tomato._

 _Jack blinked at her. His seven-year old mind couldn't wrap around what was so wrong with it._

" _But you said it means 'I love you'."_

" _My mom says only say when you mean it," Elsa explained._

 _Jack tugged playfully at her braid, earning him a slap from a very annoyed Elsa. "But I do mean it! You're my friend, so jeg elsker deg_."

" _It's not THAT kind of love!" But her matter-of-fact tone was hard to take serious when she looked redder than the wild strawberries they liked to pick. "It's the—you know—kissing kind of love."_

 _At the mention of kissing, Jack made a disgusted face. "Eww, really?"_

 _He liked Elsa well enough. But he certainly didn't like her like THAT._

" _Yes. So don't say it unless you really, really mean it." She folded her arms over her chest, trying to mimic the stern look her mother sometimes gave her. "Promise?"_

 _Jack sighed. It was just words. Why was she acting like this over words?_

" _Jack!"_

" _Fine, I promise."_

 _._

"You really mean it?"

The uncertainty in her voice was something he never wanted to hear again.

"Always," Jack whispered.

Her cheek felt warm cradled against his hand. He wondered if her lips would be as warm, would taste as sweet as that first kiss they had shared all those weeks ago. For every waking moment that he felt his heart beat against his chest, its staccato tune only waited to find its rhythm with hers.

He leaned down to brush their lips together gently, his mouth still unpracticed but ever willing to learn. It awakened a hunger in him that wanted to taste more, to feel more. The 'more' was something he could only instinctively follow as he pressed forward to deepen the kiss.

Elsa's hands gripped at his cloak but even though he felt her nervous tremble, her lips parted to invite him in. It felt a bit strange at first, more intimate than he had expected, but her small moan soon had blood racing to parts of him that demanded attention. There was something equally driving a hunger in her as she was kissing him back with the same intensity.

When they parted, Jack was leaning on her, too dizzy to even think.

"Stay," she whispered. The word held a meaning deeper than its simplicity.

But a recent conversation had him coming to grips with what she was asking.

"I told him I wouldn't see you anymore."

His words may have been steadfast, but his resilience was weak. All she had to do was beckon him with her siren's call and any agreements he had made would be an indistinct echo in the wind.

"Well, I never made such a promise," she whispered, mischievously.

Lord help him, he wasn't sure he could love this woman any more.

Her hand in his, she led them across the fields towards the small stable.

Once inside, Jack nervously placed his staff against the wall. He was so nervous that he jumped when one of the horses whinnied loudly.

"Penelope," Elsa scolded. The horse closest to Elsa stuck its head out from the pen and nibbled on Elsa's cloak. She mumbled something in Norwegian and petted the horse, exchanging a shy smile with Jack.

"I told my mother I was coming out to groom the horses," Elsa said. She stepped away from the rather persistent mare and removed her cloak. "So it should buy us some time."

He stupidly wanted to ask _Time for what?_ But he knew what he was agreeing to when he had taken her hand. In some ways, he didn't dare believe that one of the worst nights he'd ever had could turn out to be the best.

She placed her cloak on a stool, then added her long, blue gloves. Jack's pulse picked up from catching even the briefest glimpses of skin. They had only the light of the moon illuminating the inside of the stable but the way its glow bounced off Elsa's skin made her appear almost ethereal, like a vision from the tales of fae and woodland spirits.

"I still think about that day," Elsa said. Her fingers unclipped her bun, the braid tumbling free over her shoulder. Even in the pale glow of the moon, Jack could see a faint splash of color across her cheeks. "In the creek."

Oh. That day.

"I—I still think about it, too," Jack admitted.

They both looked at each other with intense desire. But their shyness kept them from making the first move. With a bashful dip of her head, Elsa shifted her weight between both of her feet.

"What were you thinking when you…when you saw me?"

The question caught him off guard.

"I—I—" His face felt hot as he stumbled over his words. What would she say if he was honest? Would she think less of him for having such inappropriate thoughts? "I wanted to touch you."

He rubbed his arm awkwardly, with a nervous laugh. "I know it was—what I did—taking my clothes off-made it worse and—I shouldn't have been thinking those things—"

"I wanted you to."

He paused mid-ramble, his eyes darting up to hers.

"I—" she swallowed uncomfortably. "I wanted you to touch me."

"Oh."

He would have slapped himself for being so ineloquent if he wasn't completely dumbfounded.

"I was angry at first," she continued. "You can be so infuriating sometimes and—taking your clothes off where anyone could see us—

"But then I saw you—and I mean ALL of you—and I thought—if you put your hands on me…it might be nice."

"So…you're trying to say I made you hot and bothered?"

"JACK!" Elsa cried out, flustered. "You don't need to say it like that!"

Jack chuckled. It actually helped ease some of the tension.

"What was it that made you want me to touch you?" he asked. He saw her about to protest but cut her off. "Hey, I answered your question. It's only fair."

She hesitated a moment before saying, "You have nice shoulders."

"Y-you like my shoulders?"

He wasn't particularly fond of his body. Unlike his father, he ended up a lot more scrawny and lanky. He had been hoping to fill out a bit more but it wasn't like his family ate as well as some of the other farmers in this area. His time in the fields kept him toned but more wiry than he would have liked. Hitting puberty has also made him more self-conscious and he was reluctant to throw off his shirt unless he was certain there was no one outside of family around to see him.

But seeing Elsa nod and shyly look away, it gave Jack more confidence than he had felt in a while. He shrugged off his cloak and began unbuttoning his shirt.

"Jack? What are you—"

"You said you like my shoulders," he answered, peeling the shirt off.

The air in the stable was not as cold as it was outside but it was enough to make his exposed skin prickle without the protection of his outer layers. He heard Elsa release a breathy gasp as he slowly stepped towards her.

"Do you…still like them?"

She nodded but her eyes once again slipped to the floor.

Reaching out, he delicately tilted her face up towards his, forcing their eyes to meet. His pulse raced, spreading fire through his veins. He leaned in until their lips were nearly touching, his next words a teasing breath against her lips. "I also wanted you to touch me."

With a hesitant hand, she brushed her fingers along his shoulder, tracing the muscles that gave evidence of a season's labor. Jack shivered, the ticklish sensation dancing across his skin like an electric current. Her hand settled on his arm as she regarded him curiously.

"You're not cold?" she whispered.

"You know the cold's never bothered me," he answered.

He kissed her gently, fighting to keep his frenzied desire for her at bay. But it was a battle of will that was soon lost as Elsa stepped up to the challenge, pushing him onto the stool and sliding into his lap. She claimed his mouth with an intensity that had him gripping her for purchase, the dizzying taste of her lips awakening something hot inside of him. He was hard for her and half-embarrassed that she must be able to feel him through the layers of her skirts.

But if she felt him, she wasn't turning away in disgust. On the contrary, he felt her pressing against him in a way that was making him more and more wanting for her.

"Y-your heart," she panted against his lips. Her fingers were splayed over his chest, his pulse thrumming against the palm of her hand. "It's beating fast."

Taking his hand in hers, she pressed it to her left breast. A low groan rumbled in his throat, the rise and fall of each breath she took pushing her clothed breast into his hand. He remembered how soft they had looked that day in the river, spent many sleepless nights wondering if they would be just as soft in his hands.

"Would you like to feel mine?"

He could only nod numbly, his voice failing him.

The garment she wore today was simple, buttoned up to her neck. She unclipped the first set of buttons midway down her chest. Then, with a bashfulness that characterized their youth, she guided his hand inside, laying it over the thin shift that offered only a meager attempt at retaining her modesty. Although she remained clothed, her collarbone was now victim to the cool air in the stable. Jack could feel her nipple prickle through the shift. But most of all, he could feel how quickly her heart was also beating.

"This," she whispered, gazing at him intensely, "is what you do to me, Jack."

He pressed his lips to her collarbone, drawing a sliver of her pale skin between his teeth. His light nip made her breath hitch and emboldened him to slide his hand beneath her slip. The tiny goose bumps that peppered her skin became a map his fingertips could trace to destinations he had only dreamed of exploring. When he grasped her breast, she whimpered his name so wantonly, it made his erection twitch painfully inside his trousers.

"Is this okay?" he whispered against her neck. He fondled her gently, lining her neck with a trail of soft kisses.

"Y-yes," she gasped, tangling her fingers in his hair.

His hunger for her became a selfish ache. Every bit of skin he slid his tongue over was not enough to sate him. He needed more of her, to lose himself in her.

When her fingers traced the shape of his arousal, Jack was lost. A feral groan burst from the back of his throat and in the haze of his delirium, he abandoned all reason.

"Elsa."

Her name was a plea, desperate for an answer.

"Yes," she breathed.

She slid off his lap. The absence of her warm body was immediate and not something Jack could handle being away from for long.

He took his cloak and laid it over the hay stacked in the corner. Once she had settled comfortably, he descended over her, capturing her lips chastely. Her legs drew him in, pulling him against her skirts towards her heat, that maddening heat that had his erection throbbing for her.

He dragged his hand up her thigh, sliding cautiously over the high stocking until he was met with her smooth skin. He relished in the feel of her, like handling fine silk, coating his fingers until he had her dripping and trembling for him. Two of his fingers were buried deep within her and Lord how he wanted it to be him instead.

"C-can I...?" he groaned, pressing his thumb to that small bump hidden high between her folds.

It drew a carnal sound from her, a breathy whimper that bubbled from the back of her throat. He hadn't known something so strange could produce a sound so musical.

"Y-yes."

The desperation in her voice was all but begging him to be inside of her.

He went to unlace the bindings on his pants. But it seemed that it finally hit him, the gravity of what they were doing: Elsa was promised. And it wasn't to him.

His fingers shook with the lacings. If her husband realizes she's not a virgin on their wedding night…? Well, society always had creative ways to deal with women like that.

His erection was freed from its constraints, rock hard and throbbing to find its home between her thighs. And yet…

"Elsa, I—I don't think—"

"It has to be you, Jack," Elsa whispered. Her hands were also shaking. "I—I don't want it to be _him_."

 _Him_.

It filled him with a destructive rage, his blood running hot at the thought of another man spending the rest of his life touching Elsa. Like a petulant child, spoiled rotten without discipline, Jack refused to share even if society labeled Elsa tradable 'property'. How strange a world they lived in where a person's thoughts and desires could be ignored for a transaction.

Her fingers gingerly touched the head of his arousal. With a startled gasp, his jealous fire became a flame that burned only for her touch. She experimentally grasped him around his shaft, sliding her hand along his length.

No one had ever touched him like that before. And though her hand was hesitant and inexperienced, he could come undone by the attempt alone.

"E—Elsa…" he gasped, resting his head against hers.

"I love you, Jack." There was a note of heartbreak in her confession, a melancholic song that denoted how doomed this was. "So it has to be you."

Guiding him to her entrance, Jack could feel her thighs tremble against his. She was as afraid as he was of what they were about to do, breaking the most heinous of their society's rules. But all he had to do was look into her eyes to know that this wasn't an act of malicious rebellion. This was them. And maybe both of them had known since they first met that it would eventually lead to this.

He was surprised by the resistance he was met with, though her could feel her walls coat him with her warmth. He went slow but struggled not to lose himself in the sense of completion that had his blood pumping with a lascivious craving to feel more. He sunk in as deep as she would take him and in his delirium, thought he would offer his soul to the devil himself if it meant he could spend forever between her thighs.

"Th-this is—" he groaned into her neck.

Words would not do justice to how wonderful she felt.

But his euphoria was short lived when he felt his forehead brush against something wet. To his horror, he realized she was crying.

"I-I can stop," he said quickly. He began to withdraw slowly, ignoring the pleasurable shudder that seemed to burn from his abdomen. It was like taking mead from a drunkard. "I-I don't want to hurt you."

The slight grimace on Elsa's face made it an easy decision.

"N-no!" she said, hooking a leg over his hip. "I want you, Jack. Please…don't stop."

Dear God, he wasn't sure how she managed to fuel his desire for her all the more. She made a fool of him to where 'no' no longer became a word in his vocabulary. He was sure that if she told him to walk through hellfire, he would do it.

"Oh, Elsa," he whispered, claiming her lips.

He thrust into her gently, any sound of discomfort being silenced by their kissing. He wasn't sure how to make this feel as good for her as it did for him but he slowly built a rhythm that had her gasping against his lips. Her hands traced patterns along his skin, though he noted how they always seemed to come back to those shoulders she seemed so enchanted by. Cradled in the shadows of the stable, they were both transported to a world where it was only them, away from the life that had long since decided their paths would diverge. He wanted to always remember her like this: porcelain skin like liquid silk on his tongue, her legs tangled with his, his name a prayer on her rosy lips…

When he finally came undone, it was with her name rumbling at the back of his throat. He spilled into her with desperation, the ache in his abdomen exploding until his entire body was shaking. He rocked against her, her embrace tight as they rode together this final wave that had him seeing stars. It was a long while before he dared move, his breath whispering sweet nothings into her shoulder.

"I don't want this to end."

Her fingers stopped toying with the strands of his messy hair. The finality in it all made something inside him break.

He wanted to tell her it didn't have to end but their future was not theirs to decide. All they could do was selfishly take the scraps of moments they were offered to sustain the delusion that it was all going to be okay.

When he pulled out of her, he felt like he was pulling away from more than the heat between her thighs. Elsa was his past, his present. Why was it decided that she could never be his future?

"Then let's not talk about 'endings'," he said.

As she curled up into his side, he let the illusion prevail for just a little longer.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:** And here we are, onto the final chapter. I initially planned this to be a 10k one-shot but it was nearly twice the length of what I outlined. Thank you to all who have followed this story and tolerated any historical inaccuracies or abuse of Norwegian (I have tried my best). I do want to point out that although it has never been explicitly stated, the age gap between Elsa and Anna is greater than in the film: Anna was not born until after her family arrived to America.

 **Warnings:** Descriptions of sex, hints of Helsa. Also suggested physical abuse.

Chapter 6: The End

"Elsa?"

The door to the stables rattled.

Jack's eyes widened in panic as he finished adjusting his cloak. Thinking quickly, he nimbly hopped over the gate to Penelope's pen, crouching low in the corner. Through the cracks in the gate, he could see Elsa hurriedly button up the rest of her dress.

"Pappa!"

Beaming, she turned to greet her father as he entered the stable.

The light from Mr. Liabråten's lantern filled the stable. He glanced around suspiciously before turning to address his daughter. "Det er sent. Hvorfor er du her?" (1)

He heard Elsa respond in their native language but couldn't make out most of what she was saying. Penelope attempted to chew on Jack's hair a few times, finally snorting indignantly as he pushed her face away. His breath caught in his throat, worried that he was about to be discovered by the man who he had distinctly promised to leave his daughter alone an hour ago (any and all guilt following recent actions to be acknowledged at a later date). However, neither Elsa nor Agnarr looked his way as they continued their discussion.

Finally, Mr. Liabråten took his leave. After a long, tense minute or so, Elsa crept slowly towards Penelope's pen.

"I think it's safe now," she whispered.

Jack stood up, which once again drew Penelope's attention. Penelope managed to nip at his cloak before he hopped back over the gate.

"Your horse is evil," he complained.

Penelope nudged him roughly in the back, causing Jack to stumble forward.

Although she tried to hide it, Jack could see the faintest of smiles on Elsa's lips. "I think she likes you. She only does that to people she likes."

Elsa fondly petted the horse's muzzle.

"Then I'd hate to see what she does to someone she doesn't like. That's not how you treat people, Penelope," Jack scolded the horse.

This time, Elsa actually giggled. "And just how should a person treat someone they like, Mr. Overland?"

With a coy smirk, Jack responded, "Why don't I show you, Miss Liabråten?"

Wrapping his arm around Elsa's waist, he pulled her close, kissing her chastely. The taste of her lips brought back the memories of the night they had spent and Jack could already feel his body responding once more. His desire for her was insatiable and not even their near discovery could put out the flame.

"I need to go back," Elsa said regrettably. "My father will be waiting."

Jack was disappointed. But he had already gone back on his word. If they played their cards right, this would be but a moment known only to them. They could go on living their separate lives as they were.

It wasn't what he wanted but it was the right thing to do.

Reluctantly, he let her go. He already felt colder without her in his arms.

"This night," he began.

He watched her put on her gloves and cloak, his voice trailing off.

How could he put into words just how incomplete he felt without her?

"No 'endings', Jack," she whispered. "That's what you said."

Taking his hands in hers, she looked up at him with those wide, lovely eyes he never failed getting lost into. That she could love a peasant like him…it was more than he deserved.

"I get married in May. Until then…I want to have you as many times as I can," she declared, a rosy blush falling across her cheeks.

Five months of sneaking around. It was too risky. The more they met, the more opportunity to get caught.

"Elsa—"

But she wouldn't let him finish.

"If I must become Hans' _wife_ ," she said the word like it was a curse on her tongue, "then I won't let them take _this_ away from me. Not yet."

 _I won't let them take you away from me,_ her eyes seemed to say.

Kissing her goodnight, they soon parted ways. The walk back to the Overland farm filled Jack with many mixed feelings about the strange turn of events. He wanted to believe that when the time came, he could let her go.

After all, it's not like he had a choice.

.

The first few weeks that followed went by agonizingly slow. With little to do on the farm, most of the daylight was spent in the company of family. Jack even grew so bored, he helped his mother and Emily sew old scraps of clothing into patches to be added to their quilts. Learning a new skill was never a hindrance, though Jack would gladly admit his rough hands were too unpracticed to produce the same quality as Emily.

As the new year rolled around, Elsa was never far from his thoughts. He often awoke with her name a whisper on his tongue, her body a sanctuary he visited in his dreams. The affect these dreams had on him would make him roll away from Emily in embarrassment, chasing away all thoughts of the flaxen-haired vixen since relief by hand was not an option in their seasonal sleeping arrangements. He needed her like he needed sugar cane: not for his survival but as a reminder that he could have some indulgence in the harsh life he lived.

But finding time alone was not something easily done. Jack was about ready to believe their time together had already ended. That is, until one fateful day in mid-January.

Emily was playing in the snow, building a miniature fort with the torn gloves she wore on her hands. She spent so much time playing outdoors, it seemed she was ruining her winter clothing faster than could be mended.

Tossing his pair to her, Jack then went back to chopping wood.

"Jaaaaaaack, why won't you play with me?"

He glanced over his shoulder and smiled when he saw his sister change her gloves. The wooden handle of the ax was wet and cold in his hands but he could take a bit of discomfort if it meant keeping Emily warm.

"It's gonna be a long winter, Em," Jack answered. He kicked aside the logs, positioning the ax to chop off another part of the small cedar he had felled earlier.

"But we already have a lot of wood," she complained.

"Only enough to last us till February. Better safe than sorry."

Emily sighed.

It took a few strikes to separate the next log from the trunk. Although it was cold out, Jack could feel sweat gathering on his brow. "Let's test out your fort when I'm done."

"I get to be a Blue coat!" Emily said.

At this, Jack paused his chopping to give his sister a disgruntled look. "Why am I always the Red coat?"

"Because you always invade MY forts!" Emily answered, sticking her tongue out at her brother.

He pretended to be annoyed but had a hard time hiding the grin on his face. Bending down in the snow, he gathered some and shaped it into a ball. "Better fortify that base, Em. The Red Coats are coming!"

Emily squealed and ducked into her fort as Jack pelted it with his snowball. The two siblings shared a laugh.

"Not fair! You said AFTER you were done!" Emily said. She peeked her head over the top of the fort, dropping down once again as another snowball hit the side.

"Red coats play dirty!" Jack retorted.

They exchanged a few more snowballs, Jack's mostly (purposely) missing his sister while she managed to get him once in the arm. To have his vengeance, he was about to storm her fort when a snowball hit him in the back of his head.

He stumbled forward a few steps. Emily was still in front of him so it wasn't like she had hit him.

 _Who-?_

"Anna!" Emily laughed, jumping up from behind the fort.

Jack looked over his shoulder.

"Anna—"

"She did it!" Anna said.

Her finger was pointing accusingly up at her older sister.

Elsa blinked innocently, her gloved hands folded carefully over her skirts. She looked as home in winter as a fish in water, powder-blue cloak draped over her shoulders. But there was a mischievous glint in her eyes, like a snow storm waiting to unleash its power on an unsuspecting victim.

How he wanted to see her unhinged and take her again like that night in the stables. Just the thought of her sprawled beneath him had heat filling his cheeks.

"Elsa's a blue coat!" Emily declared.

Anna pouted. "I wanna be a blue coat, too!"

Elsa must have known what he was thinking. She blushed and looked down into the snow.

"Okay! Let's all be blue coats!"

"3-to-1 is not a fair fight, Em," Jack said, shaking his head. "The English forfeit!"

Both Emily and Anna cheered.

While the girls began building a snowman, Jack bent down and started gathering the wood. There was so much he wanted to say to Elsa, even more he wanted to do to her, but in the presence of their sisters, all of that would have to remain unsaid.

"I'm going to bring these to the toolshed," he declared, loudly.

Him and Elsa exchanged a meaningful look.

"I'll help you!" Elsa said. "Don't wander off, Anna."

But if Anna and Emily heard their siblings, or even cared, they made no indication of it. The tree Jack had felled was on the edge of the Overland property, only a handful of yards from the toolshed. Far enough for privacy but not too far to watch over their siblings. Elsa picked up a few logs and followed him inside.

Adding the firewood to the stack, Jack paused to take a deep breath. Every thought he had was somehow chased away by the awkward rush that came over him. He turned to look at her, at those eyes that he had only seen in those hot, sleepless nights.

"E-Elsa…" he started.

"I want you," she said, her voice heavy with desire.

She didn't bother stacking the wood, just let the pieces she had been carrying fall to the floor. In a few strides, she was pressing him to the wall, kissing him with the hunger of a starved bear after hibernation. Where her hands had been shaking their first encounter, they were now purposeful as they unlaced his trousers.

It took some creative maneuvering but it wasn't long before he was thrusting deep inside of her, her skirts gathered up in his hands. She felt as tight and warm as she had all those weeks ago, her body gripping him and dragging him down to a place where everything was only her. Each time he sunk into her warmth, another piece of him was lost to the only woman he had ever wanted, the one he could never have.

Time wasn't on their side so very little was exchanged in the aftermath, besides a few kisses and the promises of 'later'. 'Later' became their word, so ambiguous in its meaning. It sometimes meant a few days from now, other times a few weeks. Jack would have her in the woods, by the creek, sometimes even in the snow in the months to follow. She was the life in nature's death, her body splayed out in the freshly fallen powder, her frost-kissed lips whimpering his name as his thumb pressed against that swollen button he had discovered months before and her body shuddered around his fingers.

He was foolish to think they could go on.

But all star-crossed stories have their ending.

It was the beginning of March when the change began. It started as a thought, one that made a chill of dashed hope settle in the pit of his stomach. For all their sneaking around, they had yet to be caught. It seemed almost too easy how nobody suspected anything but maybe the way they spaced out their encounters also made it hard for anyone to catch on.

But what if Mr. Liabråten found out? Or Hans? What would they do to Elsa?

Jack heard of what happened to 'spoiled women'. He didn't want to imagine the same fate for Elsa.

 _We just need to be more careful._

"What if we ran away?" Elsa tried asking once.

It had only briefly renewed the hope Agnarr had dashed when he refused Jack's proposal. They could take a few valuables, maybe a horse, and make it for a neighboring town. Sell those valuables, purchase a small plot of land. Or maybe take up new trades: Elsa had a fondness for dresses and knew the basics of a seamstress. Jack could take up whatever work needed to be done, repairing or building homes.

But that dream of their life together was short-lived.

"My mother and Emily wouldn't make it alone," Jack sighed.

The thought of his mother doing all the farm work, her health failing her until she left Emily, was not something Jack could ever live with.

So they went on, meeting in secret.

But then two weeks eventually became three. Jack grew restless without her, hadn't realized how much he depended on their encounters being an ongoing promise, until they stopped. It was nearly four weeks, reaching the end of March. The snow had only just started to melt but winter would last a few more weeks yet.

He wanted to make sense of his puzzling thoughts, banish the sense of dread that seemed to eat away at him every time he thought of her. So he went walking towards the creek where it all began.

His boots crunching in the snow echoed in the woods. It became a distraction from his doubts, but offered little solace.

He didn't see her so much as heard her when he was but a few yards away.

"Anna, vær forsiktig!" (2)

He could see Anna playing at the edge of the frozen creek, sliding over the ice in her low heeled boots.

Standing in the trees, Elsa folded her arms crossly over her chest. Although she was annoyed, there was clearly worry in her face.

"Elsa."

But when she would normally turn to him with lust or affection, he could only see panic in her eyes as she realized who it was.

"Y-you can't be here," she began.

He took a step towards her, reaching for her. He knew Anna might see but Lord help him, he missed her too much to care.

To his surprise, she stepped away from him, her body going rigid.

He couldn't hide how much her rejection hurt.

"Elsa, I—"

His stomach dropped as her saw the faded bruises on her cheek.

Elsa was shaking, like a cornered deer.

"Who did this to you?" he demanded.

It fueled him with a hatred he had never known. That anyone would lay their hands on her so cruelly…

There would be blood to pay.

"I-it doesn't matter," she whispered, shaking her head. But the memory of it must have triggered something in her as she seemed to wilt visibly before his eyes. "They know, Jack. About us."

That sinking dread came blaring full force and for a second, Jack felt like he couldn't breathe. He was shocked he even found his own voice as he choked out the only word he dare ask.

"H-how?"

Tears trickled down her cheeks and she looked away from him in shame.

"Jack, I'm—"

A blood curling scream and a crack shattered whatever revelation was to be spoken in those woods. Anna, much against her sister's scolding, had ventured too far out onto the frozen creek. With horror, both Jack and Elsa saw her stand rigid on the ice, a giant crack forming between her legs.

"Anna!" Elsa cried.

Jack didn't stop to think of what he was doing. He immediately slid onto the ice, his staff in hand. Elsa was screaming at him from the bank but her protests became white noise as more cracks formed beneath his boots.

He had already shamed Elsa. He'd be damned if he let her lose her sister, too.

"It's okay, it's okay," he said, his voice soothing. "Don't look down. Just look at me."

He didn't want to get too close, didn't want to risk both of them falling in. He just needed to be close enough to push her towards the bank.

"Jack, I'm scared," Anna said, her eyes welling with tears. She was trembling. "I-I should have listened to Elsa."

Another crack.

"I know, I know. But…you're gonna be alright." He couldn't let her see the panic in his face, needed her to follow along. "We're gonna play a game. Alright, Anna?"

Reluctantly, he could see Anna nodding.

With a suspicious look, he pointed to the other side of the bank. "What's that over—oh my, the Red Coats are coming! You don't want those Red Coats to take your home! We need to—we need to get back before they get us!"

Nimbly, he hopped towards the part of the ice that had yet to crack.

"Think you can do the same?"

Anna could tell just as he that she would not make it. But the hope in his eyes was enough to give her courage.

The ice beneath her was becoming riddled with more cracks.

"Quick, Anna! The Red Coats are coming! Don't let them get you!"

Anna leaped forward. As soon as her feet left the ice, Jack stretched his arm as far as it would go. The hook of his staff wrapped around her waist. He slid forward towards where she had been standing, pushing her back to where Elsa was waiting at the edge. As his staff left his arms, he watched with silent satisfaction as Anna slid into Elsa's open arms.

"Jack saved me from the Red Coats!" Anna said, excitedly.

Elsa embraced her sister and openly wept.

It all happened so fast. With a thunderous crack, Jack was falling into the ice-cold depths of the creek. The last sound he heard was Elsa screaming his name.

.

1 It's late. Why are you out here?

2 Anna, be careful!

.

 **A/N:** Epilogue to come soon.


	7. Epilogue

Epilogue

 _Darkness. That's the first thing I remember._

 _._

 _8 months later…_

The winter night was quiet, the silence spreading to all corners of the woods. A peaceful calm seemed to permeate the space, wrapping the snow covered trees in a protective veil, shielding it from the dangers that lurked in the dark. In this calm place, there would be no fear, no sadness, no suffering. Only the Moon's comforting glow.

Like a mother's careful hands that caress her babe's cheek, the glow broke the ice laden surface of the creek. A young man—but a boy, in the eyes of some—emerged from its icy depths, his stormy eyes blinking rapidly. His body trembled with fear, confusion on his face.

But as he looked up at the moon, he was no longer afraid.

Staff in hand, he learned he could do many things: his footfalls left a trail of frost, he could make snow appear at will. His breath became the kiss of winter that stained windows for years to come. He could turn the coldest of storms into the joyous of days and a good snowball fight would never be far from where he lurked.

But in that moment, slipping across the surface of the creek, he couldn't help but think it would be better if he had someone to share his fun with.

His first attempts of flight were a disaster. Wind carried him high above the clearing, then dropped him just as quickly into a tree. He laughed it off and tried it once more, joy warming him whenever he felt the wind against his light frame.

High above the woods, he could see a town square in the distance, passed the fields of snow-covered farmland. Surely, someone there would enjoy these winter games.

He drifted clumsily into the town square, waving at the many merchants and families who crowded around the few fires. He could see people bartering, children chasing each other against their disgruntled parents' wishes. Much to his dismay, nobody waved back to him, none would even say, 'Hello'.

 _Not really friendly, are they?_ He couldn't help but think.

Discouraged, he was going to try somewhere else, when a woman slipped on the trail of ice left behind by his bare feet.

"Sorry about that," he chuckled good naturedly, extending his hand.

The woman didn't reach for it. She turned to look up at the night sky and he was startled by how those large, blue eyes seemed to claw at something in the back of his mind. There was something devastatingly familiar about these eyes, filled with a sorrow he could not understand.

Her flaxen hair tied back in a bun, her skin as white as freshly fallen snow…she was beautiful, maybe the most beautiful woman he had ever seen (or, at least, in that marketplace). Yet the youth in her features was marred by the shadow of innocence lost. Whatever had hurt her, it seemed to be marked in the hesitance in her body language.

Realizing this woman was heavy with child, he felt guilty for having made her slip. He tried once again to help her, placing his hand on her shoulder.

"Miss, I'm—"

To his horror, his hand passed through her blue cloak.

"Elsa!"

He turned his head, gasping as a ginger-haired girl ran through him. He looked down at his hands, not quite believing this was happening.

 _They can't see me!_

"You need to be careful," the girl said, helping "Elsa" to her feet. "The baby's coming soon!"

Stoically, the woman got to her feet. She wobbled a little, the extra weight throwing off her balance, and used the girl to support her. "I'm fine, Anna. I…I have a lot on my mind. I wasn't watching where I was going."

"You can't see me but you can hear me, right?" he said.

He tried waving his hands but neither Elsa nor Anna would even glance in his direction.

To his surprise, the girl burst into tears.

"I-it's my fault!" she sobbed. "If I hadn't—"

Elsa wrapped her arms around the girl. "Shh…Anna…you need to stop blaming yourself. He—he wouldn't want that."

As he watched her comfort the younger girl, he could see the unshed tears shining in Elsa's eyes. He wasn't sure what tragedy had befallen these girls but maybe if he could get them to see him, he could bring a smile to their faces.

As they began to walk away, he tried a different tactic to get their attention.

"Elsa!" he called, stumbling after them.

"Elsa!" he said a little louder.

The blond gasped loudly. He wasn't sure if he had a heartbeat but he felt something tighten in his chest. Slowly, the woman turned, looking him straight in the eyes. For a long, silent moment, they both stared at each other.

Her lip quivered. He could see confusion in her eyes.

"Elsa?" Anna asked, tugging on the woman's hand.

Elsa turned to look down at Anna. "I thought I heard…"

She looked back once more. Slowly, he felt his smile slip from his face. She was looking through him, not at him.

"Nobody," she whispered. "I didn't hear anything."

Hand in hand, Elsa and Anna went towards an older couple who seemed to be waiting for them. Jack Frost could only watch numbly as the people in the market went about their business, walking through him and paying him no heed. For the many years to follow, he would never understand why that moment with the blond-haired woman would haunt him like a constant shadow, becoming one of the many pieces in a puzzle left unfinished.

Jack Frost was alone. And it had always been that way, hadn't it?

.

 **Author's Note:** And here it is. When I initially conceived of this idea (all the way back in May 2014), I only had an ending. I ended up building a story that would get the characters to this point. So I need to apologize to any readers who were hoping for a happy ending: there was never going to be a resolution that would see Jack and Elsa together. There may also be frustration over the unanswered questions but the tragedy in this story is Jack remained spectator to only one side of Elsa. And with his death, that part of her that became part of him was taken away.

I know I said no powers. So if anyone is disappointed that this serves as alternate memories to Jack's past in the RotG film, I apologize for that as well. As you can tell, there is some deviation from Jack's awakening in RotG but beyond the little changes, I imagine that Jack would eventually learn the truth and the events would play out similar to as they had in the film. Thank you to everyone who had read and followed this story and I wish all of you a Happy Holidays!


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